That night, Aria finally wrote to Vael.
She sat at the narrow table in the lower room, firelight flickering low and a single candle burning beside her. Across from her, Kael worked quietly, repairing a worn saddle strap with steady hands. Near the hearth, Cress had already drifted off again, slumped in the chair, still muttering faint complaints about the stubborn donkey that had carried her all this way.
It had been a long time since Aria had written anything like a proper letter. Since leaving Ashenveil, all messages had gone through stones brief, clipped exchanges. A line or two. Facts, nothing more. No room for breath or thought. No room for feeling.
Letters were different. They demanded time.
And time hadn’t existed during the transfer. Not when everything had been shifting, break
